Well, the reports seem to have done the job of fending off Skin. His girlfriend in Tel Aviv saw the messages, and he had to explain them. To drive the point home about the dumbfuckery of Moroccan men, I’m making sure to not leave out the part where he says that I should still come to the Brown…after he’s basically publically trashed my name and utterly cock blocked me for good there, by telling everybody there that I’m his girlfriend.
…and just so you know I don’t mean just “haverah” which could mean girlfriend or girl friend, he clarified, whenever asked, that we are lovers. So they all think he’s hitting this, except those who know me well enough to ask me, and got the full story.
So whatever attraction sparked for this bald barman, has died. In fact, he died to me today. After this post, he goes into the pile with the rest of the cretins who will rue the day. In fact, he might be rueing soon, for reasons other than my impending MILF body.
…but we won’t talk about such things here.
As for my own part, regardless of what others say or do, he will never see me again, if I can help it. I understand that he was using me as a status donkey: someone who is befriended or associated with in order to boost their status or social credibility. Now, everyone thinks he’s a cool guy with balls of steel, dating someone who lots of guys would like to shag, and can’t.
I don’t overestimate my position though. So long as I’m fat, I’m considered attractive but flawed. Not so fatally as it would seem in the States, but folks here, though a bit more fat friendly, do consider it a flaw. I can take this on the chin, same as other incidents, as one of those things that is bound to happen until I look like myself again. For the moment, unless I’m actually in the process of kicking someone’s ass or playing basketball, nobody could tell my level of fitness in the way sheeple have been programmed to view it.
No matter…most of them are getting fatter while I’m getting thinner. It’s kind of funny looking around at girls’s muffin tops becoming increasingly grotesque over jeans I saw them barely fitting into months ago. They’re fattening up for the slaughter, and hating themselves more and more, while I’m becoming more of a lean, mean, predator, and loving myself more.
It’s all good.
…and before any of my ex boyfriends out there start getting butt hurt and calling me a racist, ask yourself: did you do better?
